


Uncivilized

by anthemXIX



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthemXIX/pseuds/anthemXIX
Summary: Maybe he was reckless (okay, he was definitely reckless), but Wild was not an idiot. He was well-aware that he was not normal, and not only because of the Hero’s Spirit or the excessive scars or the whole dying-and-resurrecting-a-century-later business. Even among his companions, who had all dealt with their own unbelievable adventures, Wild was an anomaly.He was uncivilized.// in which Twilight and Warriors teach Wild proper hair care
Relationships: Twilight & Warriors (Linked Universe), Twilight & Wild (Linked Universe), Warriors & Wild (Linked Universe)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 367





	Uncivilized

**Author's Note:**

> this story fought me every step of the way. i'm happy i finally get to share it with you all.
> 
> i did some research for the shampoo/conditioner "recipes," so they're not totally baseless, but i used some creative license. also, i feel like the modern terms "shampoo" and "conditioner" are kinda out-of-place, but uhh, let's just roll with it?
> 
> thank you for reading!

Alone at the inn, Wild moped. It was unbecoming of a hero, but retrospectively, he supposed that was true about much of his conduct. Besides, why not indulge in some brooding? His mood had bottomed out hours ago and there was no reason to expect improvement any time soon.

That morning, after several exhausting days of trekking through an unfamiliar Hyrule’s monster-infested wilderness, the heroes were relieved to discover a secluded village nestled among some hills. As long as they had beds to sleep in and a shop to buy supplies, they were content with any shoddy town—but to their pleasant surprise, this village was quaint and charming with one point of interest that garnered much enthusiasm: the bathhouse.

Listening to the others’ exclamations about “finally having a _real_ bath,” Wild was bewildered. What exactly was a “real” bath? Heated water? At home he had a personal bathtub, which he used from time to time, filling it with buckets of water warmed over a fire. That was a relaxing treat, to be sure, but most days he couldn’t be bothered and simply washed up at the pond downhill from his house. Both methods were equally effective.

Wild hoped he successfully masked his confusion while he absorbed the conversation.

“This bathhouse is going to be great,” Wind chirped. “You all smell _rank_. And I say that as someone who has spent weeks on ships with filthy pirates.”

“Like you smell so great, shrimp,” Legend snarked. “Has anyone taught you about deodorant yet?”

Ignoring the jab, Wind mused, “You know, you don’t actually smell so terrible, Legend.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It’s rude to discuss personal things like this, Sailor,” Sky interjected. 

“Easy for you to say. You just smell your sailcloth's pretty perfume all day. You haven’t been fully exposed to”—Wind crinkled his nose, gesturing at the entire group—“ _this_.”

Four looked unamused. “Can we just find an inn already?” 

“You smell fine, Four,” Wind judged, as if anyone had asked. “Actually, now that I think about it, there’s, like, a few of you who reek and the rest aren’t too bad.”

“We should go find an inn,” Sky reiterated, crossing his arms.

“Like, the Ranch Hand has this permanent farm aroma—” 

Warriors snickered, earning a glower from Twilight.

“—but there is no doubt that the Champion is the worst. Like, do you even bathe, dude? Or wash your clothes? I get that _you_ don’t care, but at least spare the rest of us.”

Wild’s cheeks burned as several pairs of eyes glanced his way. 

“Damn,” Warriors said.

“Harsh,” Legend added.

“Sailor!” Sky chided.

“Let’s find an inn,” Time interrupted. He served Wind with a quick look of parental disapproval before striding away, further into town. The others followed.

“I’m just stating facts,” Wind mumbled, earning more scolding.

When Hyrule, ever merciful, elbowed him and suggested they explore the surrounding hills, Wild was more than happy to escape the group. Part of him wanted to ask about Wind’s declaration regarding his hygiene, but that would be too embarrassing. He considered asking why everyone was gushing over the bathhouse to begin with, but that would just drive home the idea that he didn’t bathe. So he kept all that to himself. 

Luckily, the Traveler didn’t mention any of that, and Wild was soon distracted. The pair spent the afternoon clambering around the hills, pointing out unusual plants or insects, shield-surfing down the longest slopes, regaling each other with silly exploits from their homelands. Eventually, they came across a narrow cavern hidden by some boulders. Wild squinted into the darkness, eager to wiggle inside and poke around, only to drop his shoulders in sharp disappointment when Hyrule gazed at the sun’s position and said he’d like to get back to try the baths.

“The public bathhouses back home are kind of gross,” Hyrule confessed, “but the way the others were talking, this one sounds like a spa or something. I'd like to check it out. Want to go with?”

“Uhh… Not now. But thanks.”

“Hey, don’t let what the Sailor said bother you.” Hyrule patted his shoulder reassuringly. “No one thinks that stuff about you.”

Of all his companions, Hyrule understood him best, Wild thought. They were kindred spirits, self-taught survival experts who had emerged from dark caves to save their ruined worlds. The key difference was that the Traveler wasn’t incapacitated by a crippled memory. 

Wild tried to smile, appreciative of the Traveler’s kind words even if he didn’t believe them. They meandered back to the village, and now, Wild was moping alone.

Maybe he was reckless (okay, he was definitely reckless), but Wild was not an idiot. He was well-aware that he was not normal, and not only because of the Hero’s Spirit or the excessive scars or the whole dying-and-resurrecting-a-century-later business. Even among his companions, who had all dealt with their own unbelievable adventures, Wild was an anomaly.

He didn’t always understand social protocol or etiquette. Didn’t always possess the basic knowledge of the world every functioning adult seemed to have. Couldn’t always determine what was acceptable or not in a given situation. Knew next-to-nothing about his own culture and its associated customs, much less any others. On the other hand, he could spout off which monster guts made the most potent elixirs, knew how to fight with a tree branch and pot lid as well as any sword and shield, and was able to catch and ride just about anything from a stalhorse to a bear. He was a novice in human interaction but a master of the uncharted wilderness. He felt out-of-place in the confines of a city but at home in an untamed, never-ending forest.

In short, Wild was uncivilized. And this, it seemed, was a quality that was universally disdained.

Back home, it was easier to skirt judgment. In his low-population Hyrule, he could go days without encountering someone, and even then, travelers never seemed too bothered by his unusual behavior or unkempt appearance. They chalked it up to the hardships of nomadic life in a perilous world. Townspeople usually refrained from negative comments since Wild had assisted them with everything from mundane chores to the demolition of nearby monster camps. When he did catch the surreptitious side-eyes, the gossiping whispers, the brief flickers of shock or disgust that were swiftly schooled into courteous expressions, Wild could pretend he hadn’t noticed. 

But here, traveling in close quarters with eight perceptive and often blunt people, pretending was not an option. It didn't happen often, but each time his undomesticated nature came under scrutiny, it was mortifying.

Like the fishing incident. 

Wind, Time, and Twilight were fishing and Wild wanted to join them. He didn’t understand why this had caused such an uproar. Sure, they were using those pole things while he had stripped and jumped into the water with a knife, but why did that matter? Wind had wailed that he was scaring the fish away, and Time had fixed him with The Look. Twilight apologized on his behalf and insisted he come back to shore. 

“Why would you do that?” Wind moaned. “That was mean!”

“Mean?” Wild asked, wringing out his hair.

Time sighed, trying to rein in his irritation. “I don’t think he intended to scare the fish, Sailor.”

“Why else would he do that?”

“I was…fishing?” Wild supplied.

“Oh, please!” Wind said. “What was your plan? Grab the fish with your bare hands?”

“Well, yeah.”

Wind blinked, then went bug-eyed. “Wait, are you serious? You’re serious! Is that how you fish, for real?”

“Not always. Sometimes I use bombs or electricity or...” Wild withered under his companions’ incredulous gazes.

Time shook his head and huffed a laugh. “Bombs. You truly are a wild child, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t an insult—in fact, it was laced with fondness—but Wild still frowned at the comment.

“Don’t you know how to use a fishing rod?” Wind asked, waving his around for emphasis.

Wild regretted saying “no” when the resultant impromptu lesson turned out to be the most insufferably boring activity he’d ever been subjected to.

Wind explained the mechanics of the sport with unbridled enthusiasm, and Time and Twilight chipped in with advice now and then. Their brand of fishing required patience, a virtue Wild possessed in most circumstances, but he had no idea how the others could just sit still and wait for fish to come to them. It was so inefficient! And mind-numbingly dull! His methods were fruitful and active and _fun_. 

Of course, he didn't verbalize any of this, especially since his friends were enjoying themselves (for Hylia-knows-what reason). 

When at last the torture culminated, Wind brightly said, “You can borrow one of my rods anytime you want! As long as I'm around to supervise.”

Wild thanked him, but he had yet to take up the offer. Neither had he fished without a pole since then, mainly deterred by the memory of Twilight's embarrassment at his behavior. He decided fishing was best handled by the civilized members of their troupe. 

Then there was the cooking incident.

One evening as Wild prepared dinner, humming tunelessly to himself, Four wandered over and perched on a log beside him. “That smells delicious.”

“It's creamy heart soup,” Wild said. “Want to try?” He held out the wooden stirring spoon, which Four accepted and raised to his lips. His eyes lit up.

“Amazing. Where did you learn to cook like this, anyway, Champion?”

Wild took back the spoon and continued swirling the soup as he shrugged. “I picked up some recipes in my travels, but mostly I figured it out on my own.”

“Incredible. I don't think I could do such a thing. Judging by everyone else's attempts at cooking, I'd say they can't, either.”

The Smithy was not one to dole out empty compliments. Wild warmed at his words and decided a little boasting wouldn't hurt. “When I came out of the Shrine, someone taught me how to bake apples, and that was it. I was forced to teach myself everything else.”

“You must have a natural predilection.”

Wild shrugged again, trying to sound casual as his heart fluttered. “Oh, I don't know.”

Four cupped his chin pensively. “So with your memory wiped, how did you deduce which plants were edible?”

“Trial and error.” At Four's inquisitive expression, Wild elaborated. “I just sampled everything and kept eating what didn't make me sick.” He laughed. “That was not a good time. Plants aside, raw meat was the worst.”

“Raw meat?”

“Yeah. I saw a fox eating a pigeon one day, so I figured I could do the same. Unfortunate way to learn that Hylians really need to cook meat first...”

“So, what, you caught a pigeon and just took a bite? Did you defeather it first, at least?”

“Nope. Fox didn't, so I didn't.”

“Right...” 

Wild realized he had made some mistake when Four averted his eyes. The pleasant glow in his chest faded.

“Well, I...,” Four started uncertainly. He cleared his throat. “I'm glad you figured it all out in the end. That's quite impressive, given the odds against you.”

Wild said nothing as he set aside the spoon. He knew that tone. Pity. Four pitied the poor feral boy who learned to feed himself by observing animals and unwittingly ingesting poisonous mushrooms. He no longer viewed Wild’s cooking as the product of a talented peer. It was the triumphant symbol of a pathetic being who taught himself how to be human, an accomplishment to be praised not for its own merit but for defying low expectations. 

“It’s ready, if you want to call the others,” Wild murmured. Four nodded and stood, engrossed in his thoughts and unaware of Wild’s mood shift. 

There were other incidents where Wild accidentally proved himself feral to his incarnations, but none involved hygiene until today. Wild thought he had moved past those types of problems, at least. Apparently not.

He frowned as he remembered the first time he arrived in Kakariko Village. Lady Impa’s guards had narrowed their eyes and said, “You don’t expect to see her looking like that, do you?” At the time, he hadn’t understood, but now he winced as he recollected his tangled, leaf-littered hair, the dirt and crusted monster blood on his hands and face, his shredded, threadbare clothing. 

He did, in fact, see Impa looking like that. She provided him with some toiletries before he continued on his journey, but he hadn’t known what to do with most of them and was too ashamed to ask. Instead, he’d watched other travelers at the stables, memorizing the way they cleaned their teeth or combed their hair or washed their clothes. He figured he wouldn’t match typical standards of cleanliness, but he would get by. He had more important matters to concern himself with, anyway.

But if his fellow heroes disapproved of his hygiene, then surely everyone else was flat-out repulsed. Wild hated to consider all the interactions he’d had with people who, despite their shattered world, managed to keep themselves looking (and smelling) decent and dignified. From farmers and shopkeepers to village chieftains and his own princess…what must they think of him?

Wild puttered restlessly in the room he was sharing with Twilight. Civilization seemed stuffy and humdrum sometimes, but he wished he understood it. If he understood it and _chose_ to reject it, he wouldn't be so bothered. But he had no choice. Fate had shunted him into a perpetual state of fumbling for the answers, of accidentally humiliating himself, of not sharing the fundamental insights that separated humans from animals. 

No matter what, he was an outsider.

Wild sighed, glancing out the window. It was evening, but the summer sun would linger a few hours yet. Perhaps he should take advantage of the clement, cloudless weather and the atypical downtime to get himself cleaned up. He needed to wash his hair anyway, and that was always a time-consuming enterprise. Besides, idling in this tiny room was nearly as boring as fishing with a rod. (Well, no, nothing quite rivaled that in intolerable blandness, but still.)

While the others galivanted in the bathhouse, Wild figured he could find some isolated reprieve in the crystalline pond he and Hyrule had found outside town earlier. So he gathered up his toiletries in a pouch, grabbed his Slate, and started the short uphill jaunt to his destination.

No one had been in the hills earlier, so Wild didn’t expect to see anyone there now. By the time he drew out of his sulky stupor and noticed Twilight and Warriors sitting by the pond, it was far too late to make a getaway. He’d been spotted.

Twilight waved cheerily. “What brings you up here?” 

He considered fabricating an excuse but couldn’t conjure anything believable. Oh, well. He didn’t like lying to Twilight anyway. “Going to take a bath.” 

Predictably, Warriors asked with a raised eyebrow, “Here? Not the bathhouse?” 

Wild shrugged and inspected the mixing bowl Warriors held, the satchel of flowers and herbs in his lap. There was a recently-doused campfire between the two heroes and a stack of dirty cooking implements at their backs. “What are you guys making?” It was a deflection, but he was also genuinely intrigued.

“Shampoo,” Twilight answered. “Warriors is teaching me his fancy recipe.” 

“On the road, I’m fine with something simple,” Warriors added, “but I like to treat myself to something luxurious when I get the chance.”

“Oh,” Wild said, a little hurt. He always tried to make robust and varied meals, and Warriors had never seemed displeased by them. Wild would even say some of his dishes qualified as fancy, but then again, what did the uncivilized boy know? He had never even heard of this “shampoo” dish. “I do know a couple of old recipes from the royal family, if you’d want me to make them sometime. Mostly desserts. Those would be luxurious, I suppose.”

“Trust me, your cooking is always a luxury,” Warriors laughed. “Beats the hell out of military rations, that’s for sure. Anyway, we’re almost finished, but you want to join the lesson?”

Hadn’t he just called Wild’s cooking “simple?” A little confused, Wild nonetheless nodded and sat next to Twilight. He was always happy to learn new recipes, especially if it was something his friends liked to eat. “So what ingredients do you need?”

“You need tallow for the base,” Warriors replied. “Buy some high-quality beef fat, melt it, strain it, and _voila_. Tallow. Now, a lot of people just mix it with water, but you want to use one-part water and one-part tea. This here is chamomile.”

“Never would have thought to use tea,” Twilight said. 

“I would expect as much from a simple farm boy.”

Twilight rolled his eyes at the good-natured jab.

Warriors continued, “Then you add whatever herbs or plants suit you. I can give you exact measurements later, but we’re using lavender with calendula. Also added a touch of lemon peel for fragrance.”

“See?” Twilight said, grinning at Wild. “Fancy.”

Wild said nothing, a bit mystified as he watched Warriors blending the ingredients.

“Last thing you have to add is a little wood ash. Helps bind it all together,” Warriors concluded.

Beef fat, herbs, flowers, and ashes. Wild had heard some weird recipes—even some that involved rocks, for Hylia’s sake—yet this one was a stand-out. This was considered luxurious? And his friends both liked it? 

When Warriors had finished stirring, he tipped the bowl proudly to show them the creamy, off-white mixture. “And there you have it! Perfect shampoo.”

Wild blinked. “And that’s…it?”

“Yep! It’s not complicated. You just need the proper components.”

Twilight took the bowl and inhaled deeply. “Smells amazing.” He handed it over to Wild, who mimicked him.

“It does smell good,” Wild agreed, trying to sound conversational instead of dumbfounded. “What’s it taste like?”

Warriors gave him an odd look. “I mean, I guess it’s edible, but I don’t usually taste it...”

“I know you’re not too picky about what goes in your mouth, but please don’t ingest the shampoo, Champion,” Twilight laughed. 

Wild glanced between the two of them, unable to hide his puzzlement now. 

“You don’t eat it. It’s _shampoo_ ,” Twilight repeated. He frowned when no recognition crossed Wild’s face.

“You…do know what shampoo is, right?” Warriors asked. 

“Uhh… I…” Wild shrank away from Warriors’ disbelieving ogle. Despite his efforts, he’d once again failed spectacularly at hiding his ignorance. 

Twilight’s expression softened as he turned to more fully face his protégé. “Shampoo is like soap, but it’s specially made for your hair.”

“Please tell me you know what soap is,” Warriors interjected, half-joking. Twilight shot him a warning look.

“Yes, of course I do,” Wild answered, flushing. He handed the bowl back to Warriors and stood. “Thanks. I’m going to bathe now.”

To Wild’s annoyance, Twilight grabbed his wrist. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t run off.”

“I’m not,” Wild murmured, knowing full well that was exactly what he was doing.

“I’m not trying to be a jerk,” Warriors said. “I’m just…surprised. Like, you really haven’t heard of shampoo?” He scanned Wild’s wayward locks. “You know, that does explain some things.”

Wild’s cheeks reddened further, tendrils of shame creeping up his chest as he averted his gaze. He really should have stayed at the inn.

“It’s no big deal,” Twilight cut in, giving the Captain another heated look before trying to catch Wild’s eye. “But it is something you should know about. You can try some of my portion out.”

“Don't worry. There’s enough for all of us,” Warriors said. He divvied up the shampoo into three glass bottles, handing one to Twilight and one to Wild, still studying the latter like he was some fascinating scientific specimen. “So what do you normally wash your hair with, if not shampoo?”

“Uh…water?”

“Just water? How often do you wash it?”

“It’s not like I keep track. I just do it when it’s dirty enough.”

“You only wash it when it’s visibly dirty?”

“I mean, yeah? Isn’t that when you’re supposed to wash things?” 

Dear Goddess, Wild wished he were anywhere but here. Everything he said seemed to dig him deeper and deeper into a pit of humiliation, and he didn’t even understand what he was doing wrong.

As usual, Twilight swooped in to rescue him.

“Come on, I’ll show you how to use the shampoo,” he offered. He still held Wild’s wrist as he hoisted himself up and led the younger boy to the pond.

Most people who witnessed Wild struggling with simple societal concepts regarded him with pity or polite indifference. He supposed they meant well, but sparing his feelings in the moment did little to actually help him overcome his obstacles. Twilight was the only person who ever tried to steer him on the proper course instead of leaving him to flounder, and he did so with compassion and patience. He never criticized or mocked or condescended. 

Usually that made something warm and soft curl up in Wild’s chest, but now, with an audience, Twilight’s intervention only felt patronizing. Wild pulled free of Twilight’s hold and tossed down his toiletry bag. “Don’t treat me like a little kid.” He shoved down the guilt that welled for snapping at his one defender.

For his part, Twilight seemed unbothered. Plopping down onto the pond’s bank to wriggle off his boots, he said, “I’m not. Everyone needs help sometimes.”

Wild’s eyes slid to Warriors, who was cleaning up their mess but undoubtedly listening. “I can figure it out myself.”

“Sure you can, but I don’t mind showing you.” He slipped his bare feet in the water and beckoned Wild. “Get in.”

Involuntarily pouting (like a little kid), Wild decided that surrender might be the optimal strategy here. If Twilight had made up his mind, there was no changing it. Best to get this over with. 

Wild quickly undressed down to his shorts and waded into the perfectly clear water, exposed skin puckering into goosebumps. At its deepest spot, the water only rose to his waist. Tiny fish darted through the grasses at the bottom, their silver scales glinting in the sun.

“Dunk under and soak your hair,” Twilight instructed as he leaned back on his palms.

After wrestling the tie from his hair, Wild dipped under a couple of times, swiping stray strands from his eyes when he resurfaced. To his dismay, Warriors had moved to sit cross-legged at the edge of the pond, leaving some distance between himself and Twilight, and was watching him now.

“I don’t mean to be unkind, Champion,” Warriors started cautiously, “but this is a novel situation for me. Was there no one to teach you these things as you grew up?”

His tone wasn't jeering or harsh, wasn't astonished or pitying. It was curious but conscientious. Even so, the question stung. 

Wild felt exposed and foolish and raw. Standing mostly naked in the middle of a pond, water coursing along his scars, he felt like a feral animal feigning humanity. How had he ever deceived himself into thinking he could belong in the same world as people like Twilight and Warriors? Put-together, admirable men who, for all their trauma, were still perceived by most people as _normal_ in a fundamental way that Wild _wasn’t_.

Wild dropped his gaze to his feet, watching the rippling water distort them, and wrapped his arms around his chest.

Why were they still here? How could they bear to look at him? (He supposed they didn’t have much of a choice, given the way they’d all been thrust into this adventure together.)

Given Wild's silence, Warriors backpedaled apologetically. “I don’t mean to pry. That’s far too personal a question.”

“No, it’s fine,” Wild mumbled as he fiddled with his hair tie. Might as well spill the truth. Nothing to lose. “If it’s something normal people learn while growing up, then I’m sure someone taught me. But I’m not normal anymore. The Shrine muddled my brain, remember? It was the cost of cheating death. Whatever was there before is gone now.”

It was quiet for so long that Wild finally had to look up. He braced himself to see judgement or distaste, but Warriors was staring into the distance in thought, his expression unreadable. 

“I see,” he said at last. “I knew you had lost your memories, but I guess I hadn’t considered the full implications of that.”

Wild toed the pebbly silt at the pond’s bottom. When no one else spoke, he glanced at his mentor, who wore the same glazed-over countenance as Warriors. “So, uh…what’s the next step?”

Twilight blinked, dragging himself from his reverie. “Oh. Come sit over here.” He indicated a large, submerged stone that jutted from the bank, just in front of where he sat. Wild perched on the rock, half out of the water with his back to Twilight. His muscles were coiled like springs, as if he were prepared to flee.

His mentor dipped his hands in the water before uncorking Wild’s new shampoo bottle. Lavender and chamomile fragrances wafted out. “So after you wet your hair, you want to get about this much shampoo.” He held out a hand so Wild could see the small puddle of paste in his palm. Wild watched him rub his hands together until the shampoo coated his fingers.

Twilight resituated himself, scooting up so Wild was between his knees. The younger hero startled when he felt hands on his head; no one acknowledged it. “Now you use your fingertips to rub it in to your hair. Make sure to get down to your roots and your scalp, since that’s where the natural oils your body produces come from. And don’t let any shampoo drip in your eyes; that’ll sting.”

Starting at Wild’s hairline and working his way back, Twilight rubbed slow circles. Wild was surprised at how good the firm but gentle pressure felt as the movements fell into a practiced, steady rhythm. Gradually, he felt his shoulders drooping; he leaned into Twilight’s touch. He closed his eyes, pent-up tensions subsiding and thoughts falling still. 

For several minutes he relaxed, eyes closed and ears attuned to the evening birdsong from the nearby trees. He let himself enjoy the massage and the physical closeness with the person he had come to trust and respect and love like an older brother. 

Admittedly, he was a bit sad when the massage ceased and Twilight’s hands started gliding down the long locks that stuck to his back, fingers catching in the knots.

“He needs conditioner.” 

Warriors’ voice caused Wild’s eyes to snap open. He had just about forgotten the Captain’s presence. 

Twilight’s hands quit moving but remained where they were, mired in Wild’s golden hair. The younger boy turned to see Warriors walking to his bags. He pulled out a bottle of something quite similar to the shampoo.

“How much do I use?” Twilight asked. 

“Hmm.” Warriors sat much closer to Twilight now and jammed his own fingers into Wild’s mass of hair, feeling the thickness, testing the tangles. He uncorked the bottle and poured some of the viscous liquid into Twilight’s waiting hand. Armed with the cool substance, Twilight detangled and straightened Wild’s hair with surprising adeptness. 

“What’s this stuff?” Wild asked quietly.

“Conditioner,” Warriors answered. His tone was more natural now, and Wild was grateful. “Keeps your hair smooth and soft and healthy. Long hair like yours needs it.” 

“You made this, too?”

“Yep. Olive oil, egg, and rosewater, pretty much.” Indeed, Wild could smell the enchanting rosy aroma harmonizing with the shampoo’s floral fragrances. “I’ll see if I have another bottle and we can split this one.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Wild sputtered. “Don’t waste it on me.”

“It’s not a waste.” Strangely, Warriors spoke with mild indignation, as if Wild had said something offensive. The Captain returned to his bags to find an empty bottle.

“Okay, Champion, I think we’re good,” Twilight said. “Rinse everything out thoroughly.”

Wild dropped back into the pond, wading to its center. He dunked under, running his hands through his hair, and resurfaced to watch the off-white pastes cloud the water and then dissolve. He repeated the process a few times until he was certain everything was washed away. 

When he turned around, he was surprised to see Twilight and Warriors sitting side-by-side watching him. Twilight wore the soft smile he usually reserved for intimate moments, the fond one that told Wild his mentor was proud of him. To his shock, Warriors bore a similar expression, though he was trying to conceal it.

Wild was blushing as he climbed out of the pond to fish his towel from his bag. As he dried his hair, Twilight said, “You have a comb with you? I’ll comb your hair, if you want.”

Hesitantly, Wild glanced at Warriors, who was placidly watching the sunlight sparkling on the pond, and Twilight, whose face was nothing but kind. There was no judgment here. No revulsion. No pity. This was okay. He was okay. They were okay with him.

Twilight accepted the proffered comb and sat behind Wild once again, gently working out the remaining knots.

“You know, Champion,” Warriors said, “it’s a good idea to trim your hair every once in a while. The ends dry out and split apart otherwise. I could cut it for you now, if you want.”

“Oh,” Wild said, glancing back at Twilight. His mentor smiled encouragingly. “Okay, uh, sure.”

Warriors beamed, went to his bag again, and returned with a pair of scissors. Twilight laughed. “You’re prepared for every beauty emergency there is, aren’t you?”

“Of course. A captain is always prepared to help his men.”

It was a joke, but Wild glowed a little, a smile twitching at his lips. 

Warriors took the wooden comb from Twilight and they swapped places, with Twilight watching as Warriors assessed the situation. “Well, really, I’d like to cut a good chunk of it off, if you don’t mind. It’s to your mid-back now. Maybe we could take it up to your shoulder blades? That would get rid of all the unhealthy bits.”

“Sure, if that’s what you think is best.”

“No, it’s up to you.”

“Well, uh, okay. Go for it.”

With his usual methodical manner, Warriors set to work. Calloused hands and cold scissors occasionally brushed Wild’s bare back. Usually, Wild only shared such close proximity with Twilight, yet he felt comfortable. Listening to the scissors clicking, Wild reveled in the moment.

After a while, Warriors knelt in front of Wild to snip his bangs and sideburns, looking very serious as he studied the strands, trying to make them even. When he was finished cutting, he combed and smoothed Wild’s hair a final time, then grabbed a hand mirror from his bag and flashed a victorious smile. “Done! What do you think?”

Wild took the mirror and gaped at his reflection in open shock. His hair had not looked this neat, fluffy, soft, or clean…well, ever. He looked like a different person, a respectable person. A person that he liked.

With a lump swelling in his throat, Wild simply nodded his approval as he handed the mirror back to Wars, who seemed satisfied by that and grinned.

“Nice job, Captain,” Twilight said. He turned to Wild. “You look good! You feeling okay?”

Wild nodded again, certain that Twilight could sense his oncoming tears. He struggled to hold them in. Even if it was happy crying, he didn’t want it to happen in front of anyone else.

Twilight threw an arm across his shoulders and pulled him close. “You should get dressed and get your stuff together. Sun’s gonna set soon.”

Twilight rose to help Warriors pack up their belongings, and Wild sat a moment more to collect himself before tossing on clean clothes and gathering his own things. Together, the trio descended the hill and returned to the village with resplendent gilded light from the horizon-bound sun pooling around them. 

They found Hyrule and Wind on a bench outside the inn, both childishly swinging their legs as they chatted. Looking (and smelling) fresh, they had clearly visited the bathhouse. Grinning with cheeks flushed a soft pink, they appeared in the throes of the same mellow bliss as Wild. He was glad to see that.

“Hey,” Hyrule greeted. “What have you all been up to?”

“You got a haircut!” Wind exclaimed, hopping up to examine Wild’s shorter locks.

“Oh, uh…yes…”

“Wow, it looks good!” Hyrule complimented. 

Wind nodded vigorously. “It does! I don’t even remember the last time I had mine cut. I could probably use one, too.”

“Yeah, same here,” Hyrule agreed, raking a hand through his shaggy mop.

“Well,” Twilight said, “you’re in luck. The Captain here is always prepared to help his men.”

Warriors laughed. “This is true, gentlemen. The salon is closed for the day, but make an appointment any time.”

“Wow, _you_ cut the Champion’s hair?” Hyrule asked. “You did a good job. It looks professional.”

“You sound surprised,” Warriors quipped.

“ _I’m_ not surprised,” Wind chimed in. “You always look perfect!”

Warriors laughed again, ruffling Wind’s hair. “You don’t have to flatter me. I’ll cut your hair regardless.”

“Would you really do that?” Hyrule asked uncertainly, fiddling with a lock of hair.

“Indeed! I’d love to get my hands on those fluffy tresses of yours, Traveler. But for now, I’m off to my room.” He flipped his scarf over his shoulder, bid them good night, and entered the inn. Wild wondered if the dramatics were purposeful or crafted as part of a façade (something with which he was too familiar) or maybe both. Or neither? Who could tell with the Captain?

Wild hesitated before following Warriors, allowing the inn door to swing shut behind him. He was pleased to find the lobby empty save for the two of them. “Uh, Captain?”

Warriors hovered near the staircase. “Yes?”

Wild sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “Um. Thank you. For today.”

The soft, proud expression that mirrored Twilight’s returned, unconcealed now. “Don’t mention it.” He placed an affectionate hand on Wild’s head. “You’re a good kid.” 

With a little wave, he disappeared up the stairs.

The door opened again; Twilight stepped inside and Wind spilled in after him, nearly vibrating with excitement. “Hyrule said you guys found a cave earlier, and we’re going to check it out! Do you want to come?”

Wild glanced at Twilight, who unexpectedly did not appear to disapprove of nighttime spelunking.

“Sure,” Wild said. “Just give me a minute?”

“All right!” Wind punched the air in triumph and bounced back out the door.

Twilight held out his hands expectantly and Wild cocked his head, confused. 

“Give me your stuff,” Twilight said. “I’ll take it up to our room.”

He handed over his pouch and then, after a moment’s hesitation, sprung forward to wrap his arms around Twilight’s middle, pushing his face into the other’s shoulder. Twilight immediately returned the hug.

“Thank you,” Wild mumbled, muffled by Twilight’s tunic. 

His mentor stroked his newly-silky hair, smiling. “Any time, kiddo.”

Wild pulled away, forcing back the tears that suddenly formed anew.

“Now don’t mess up your hair too badly,” Twilight warned, “or else the Captain will make you do all this over tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” Wild said, grinning. “Good night.” 

He pranced outside to where an energetic Wind and Hyrule buzzed, waiting. As they headed towards the hills, Wind suddenly frowned and grabbed Wild’s elbow. “Champion, I’m sorry about what I said earlier.”

“Ah,” Wild stammered, caught off-guard. “No worries.”

“No, really. I’m sorry. I was a jerk. I’ve been feeling bad about it all day.”

Wild had to look away from Wind’s baleful puppy eyes. “Well. Thanks. I appreciate the apology.”

He was startled by Wind clasping his hand; Hyrule was equally startled when Wind grabbed his hand, too. The Sailor only beamed at them both. 

Hyrule’s grip relaxed in Wind’s, and the Traveler glanced skyward. “Isn’t the sunset beautiful tonight?”

Admiring the sky's peachy oranges and dusty purples, Wild thought about Twilight’s playful threat of repeating this day tomorrow. In spite of his earlier brooding, Wild didn’t think that would be so terrible. 

One evening hadn’t magically cured his insecurities or banished his social ineptitude. Learning to wash his hair wouldn’t by itself alter the way other people viewed him, and a single haircut didn't revamp his self-image. Regaining everything the Shrine had taken from him would take effort and patience and time. But thanks to tonight, he had started to uncover a truth that he had never dared to hope was possible: even with all his flaws, he was loved unconditionally. 

In the end, he supposed, that was the crux of being human, the capacity to love and be loved in return. If Wild had that, then maybe he wasn’t such an outsider after all. If he had that, then maybe he belonged.

With hope blooming, Wild squeezed Wind’s hand and smiled at his friends. “It really is a beautiful evening.”


End file.
